Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
ELLIE
“Some victories can only be won by those willing to lose everything.”
Fragments of the Lost Veinwardens
The study door closes behind the departing masters. In the sudden quiet, Varam steps forward.
“We should send riders to Greenvale, and bring back Nyassa and the Stonehaven leaders. Having Telren and the others here could help make the transition from Authority control easier.”
“Nyassa made it back from Earth?” Relief rushes through me at the thought she survived too, followed by guilt. I should have asked about her before now.
“She did. She found me the day after I returned, while I was still searching for you around Thornspire. She stayed in Greenvale, while we came here.” Sacha turns to Varam, his voice taking on the crisp tone he uses when he’s about to issue instructions.
“Pick whoever you trust to go and bring those who want to return to Ashenvale back safely.”
“What about the other settlements?”
“We need to know what’s happening out there first.” Sacha moves around the desk and stops in front of the map hanging along one wall.
“Send scouts out to assess the situation. Some of these places might be willing to rise up if they believe we can protect them, but we need to understand what we’re dealing with before we make contact. ”
“And the Veinwarden Knots?”
“See what resources we have available here. The Ashenvale Knot might have ways to contact them.” His expression turns focused. “Some of them might be ready to take on the garrisons in their towns and villages, if they know there is support waiting for them.”
Varam nods. “How do we prove to the settlements that we’re not just a doomed rebellion?”
“By showing them what we’ve already accomplished.
Send missives announcing that Ashenvale is under Shadowvein rule again.
Share word that Authority forces have either fled or surrendered.
" His fingers trace a path along the villages and farms nearest to Ashenvale.
“These places are closest to us. We need to know if anyone was harmed in retaliation when Sereven fled with his commanders.”
Varam glances at me before facing Sacha again. “We should also plan for you to address the city. The people need to hear from you directly.”
Sacha’s fingers still on the map. “This afternoon,” he says after a moment’s thought. “The main balcony from the throne room overlooks the plaza. We can gather people there, and if we have enough Windveins, they can amplify my voice so anyone who can’t reach the plaza can still hear.”
“What will you tell them?”
Sacha’s fingers drum once against the table before he catches himself.
“They need to understand that the Authority is gone from Ashenvale, that they are free.” He turns his attention back to the map.
“Send those riders out today. We need as many fighters willing to fight as possible. We don’t want to be unprepared when Sereven reappears. ”
“I’ll organize that immediately.” Varam’s tone suggests he noticed Sacha’s deflection from speaking publicly. “And I’ll send word out about this afternoon’s address.”
After Varam leaves, silence returns to the room.
Sacha moves to the tall window that overlooks the plaza.
His shoulders are stiff, head held high, and I’m not entirely sure he’s actually seeing anything in front of him.
I look closer at him. His jaw is clenched, a muscle ticking faintly beneath the skin.
The fingers of his left hand are curled into a loose fist. He’s lost in thought, and I don’t think they’re pleasant ones.
I step forward, and curl my fingers around his arm. “Come with me.” I pull him around to face me. “Let’s go for a walk.”
“There’s too much to do—”
“It can all wait.” I keep a firm grip on his arm and move backward, tugging him along with me. “You’ve given Varam his orders. Until he returns, there’s nothing more you can do here. You need to get out of this room.”
He looks at me, and for a moment I think he’s going to refuse, but then he sighs and nods. “You’re right. An hour isn’t going to change anything.”
We’re at the door, and I’m reaching to open it when he stops. “Wait.”
He removes the circlet from his head and sets it on the desk, then pulls off the formal coat embroidered with silver. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple tunic and pants.
“Best not draw attention until we know how the city feels.”
We leave the study, and I wait while he locks the door and pockets the key, then we walk along the hallway to the central staircase. Between the third and fourth levels, we encounter Varam coming up.
“The riders are ready to depart,” he says when he’s close. “And I’ve requested proclamations be posted throughout the city informing of your intention to address them this afternoon.”
“Good. Ellie wishes to take a walk through the city first, and get a sense of how people are reacting.”
Varam’s frown is immediate. “You’ll need an escort. Mira!” he calls down the stairs.
She appears from the third level a moment later.
“Lord Torran and Ellie are walking through the city.” His tone carries all the enthusiasm of someone announcing a plague has arrived.
Mira raises one eyebrow, then nods. “Meet me near the servants entrance on the west side of the Spire. Do not leave until I am there.” She turns and hurries away.
Servants and Veinwardens bow as we pass them, and Sacha insists on acknowledging every one of them. He stops one, a chambermaid who stares at him with wide eyes.
“Do you know who was maintaining my quarters?”
She opens her mouth and nothing comes out, then clears her throat. “My Lord, the High Commander kept your rooms locked. No one was allowed inside.”
“And yet, they have been looked after.”
Her head dips, cheeks flushing, then she straightens, lifting her chin.
“The upkeep of your rooms has been handed down throughout the years. Whenever the High Commander left the Lirien Spire, we would prepare it … just in case. Those of us who live and work here knew you were alive, and we kept faith that eventually you would return.”
Sacha doesn’t speak for a second or two, and the woman shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. Then he inclines his head. “Thank you. I will do everything I can to live up to your belief in me.”
She drops into a curtsey, her lips curving into a smile, then hurries away.
Mira is already waiting for us, with two plain cloaks folded over her arm, when we finally make it down to the ground level and find the door she mentioned.
“For discretion,” she says, handing them to us.
Sacha takes his without a word, and draws up the hood. Mira helps adjust mine so it covers the dress I’m wearing, then raises the hood, and tucks my hair inside.
“I will follow you. It will look less obvious that way.” She opens the door and steps back so we can go out ahead of her.
The plaza bustles with life. People move through it on their way to markets, or homes, or other business they might have.
But there’s a sense of waiting in the air, of nerves.
It’s evident in the way people are constantly looking around, checking who’s nearby, flinching at loud sounds.
For a moment, guilt threatens to overwhelm me.
I had a hand in causing it. Whether our rebellion was successful or not, for the greater good or not, my actions have caused more fear and concern in the people who live here.
I can only hope that, given time, they will come to realize that their lives will be better with the Authority’s choking hold over them gone.
Sacha stands just outside the door, his gaze moving across the plaza.
“I used to play here as a child.” His voice is quiet. “My tutors would bring me down during breaks between lessons, and let me run around the fountain. That was before my powers manifested, though. Once that happened …”
I follow his gaze to the fountain at the plaza’s center.
The one I hid behind when Sereven was trying to kill me.
Even from this distance, I can see the intricate details worked into the sculpture.
Flowing lines that suggest wind and water, figures that might be dancing or fighting depending on where you are standing to look.
“What was it like?” We set off at a slow stroll. “Growing up here, I mean.”
“I was the unplanned-for younger prince. Sereven was being groomed to rule, so I had a lot more freedom. I could wander the city with my guards, meet people, learn about how things actually worked instead of just in theory.”
We reach the fountain, and he stops to study the carved figures more closely. The tension that has been with him all morning seems to ease a little more. His fingers find one of the carved lines in the stone and follow it around the basin’s edge.
“When I was older, I used to sit here and listen to the water while my tutors discussed philosophy or history. It seemed like the most boring thing in the world at the time.”
“And now?”
“Now I understand why they thought it was important.” He straightens, and we continue walking toward the plaza’s eastern edge. “Philosophy teaches you how to think about power. History teaches you what happens when power is used poorly.”
We leave the plaza through an archway that leads into one of Ashenvale’s residential areas.
The streets here are narrow, lined with houses that show signs of recent repair.
Some of the damage is obviously from the recent uprising—splintered doors, cracked stone, hastily patched walls.
People look up as we pass, but don’t pay much attention, too focused on clearing debris and cleaning the red-brown stains from the walls and ground.
But as well as pockets of destruction being fixed, there are also signs of color and joy.
The marketplace is open, and all the broken pottery has been swept away.
The sound of voices reaches us—raised in laughter or discussion—and the atmosphere is very different from how I remember it from when I was first here.